


Orphan

by Solziv



Series: Catalyst [2]
Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: AU, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animals, Childhood, Comfort, Crocadogs, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Friendship, Gen, Haven City, House Of Mar, Night, Nightmares, Orphanage, Orphans, Protectiveness, Young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solziv/pseuds/Solziv
Summary: Pre-Daxter. Sequel to “Hidden”. With the Baron’s ever-tightening grip on Haven City, life is becoming more difficult for the people. Fortunately, the Underground is there, working hard to restore order, but one of its members must juggle the safety of the populace with the innocent children in the orphanage. Multi-chapter. ~ CATALYST ~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Toya and Len belong to me.
> 
> Welcome to the follow-on from _Hidden_! For some time now, I’ve wanted to write a little something about Taryn’s time in the orphanage and the relationship she has with Toya.
> 
> As I mentioned on _Hidden_ , all stories with ~ CATALYST ~ in the synopsis are part of my AU Jak/Taryn saga.

Toya stood before the window, peering out at the passers-by that slowly meandered through the Slums section of the city. With dark, cloudy skies and the first spattering of rain, Haven appeared as it ever had – melancholic and artificial. Even clad in multiple layers of green fabric – a matching set of full-length skirt, short-sleeved blouse and heavy coat – she felt the grim chill of early Autumn weather seeped into the orphanage through cracks and holes in dire need of repair. It was a remnant dating back three generations of Kings, constructed of a combination of Precursor salvage and, more recently, concrete, all of its rooms laid out on the ground floor. Sadly, Damas’ forced abdication meant the structure had been left to gradually collapse. Restoration clearly wasn’t at the forefront of Praxis’ policies.

Said woman wondered if his blight upon the city would ever cease. Things grew worse with each passing day, as did people’s stories, and her connection to the rising resistance movement provided vital information on the various goings on. Her role as head of the orphanage was threatened. If she was ever caught…well, her mind pondered if the risk was worth her children’s futures.

Feeling her chest tightening, the amber-haired female decided upon a leisurely stroll through the building, to both distract the mind and ease the conscience with the pleasant sight of her innocent wards peacefully slumbering in their beds. The hallway she traversed was three feet wide, with tall, white ceilings, dark brown woodwork and magnolia walls covered in numerous, neatly-arranged paintings and a couple of mirrors either side. Lights, in Old World-style oil lamps, hung from the upper portions and provided a gentle glow to the area. Right now, only half were lit.

She continued soundlessly through the labyrinth of passages that led through the house. The years had taught her to be silent with her footsteps, meaning she could enter each area without waking the children.

As promised to a friend almost a decade ago, she entered a bedroom situated in the West wing to check on a certain mischievous little girl; something performed every evening. Toya paused at the doorway and studied the layout – a pair of bunk beds against two of the walls farthest from her, with a small, oak bookcase and a chest of drawers against the third. Near the door was a matching toy box. She advanced and carefully climbed the ladder to one of the bunk beds and peered over.

Her face dropped. Instead of a mop of blue hair, Toya was astonished to discover it empty. As with any good mother, a wave of intense worry overcame her. She slipped down the ladder and quickly hurried out of the room, back through the corridor.

To be extra-safe, each section of the house was checked…but no sign of the child. The hunt continued for almost half an hour, anxiety becoming more unbearable, with every second the eight year old didn’t appear. There really weren’t many places to hide.  _Baffling._

The final room to search, situated in the North-East wing, was the second-largest of the house (the biggest being the aptly-named messhall), that she had transformed into a library-come-playroom. Unlike the rest of the building, it didn’t have the same colour scheme of white, brown and magnolia, but was instead given a bright colour for each wall – the baby blue one of which was entirely covered in drawings pinned to numerous cork noticeboards. The rest of the room consisted of (not surprisingly) dozens of shelves, crammed with books of all kinds, from geography to dot-to-dot. The centre expanse was mostly clear; however, during the day, it often became cluttered by art supplies, more toy boxes and even a miniature climbing frame that the children could put together.

 _If she’s not here…_  Toya muttered to herself, treading with louder steps across the thick carpet. That thought did not bear consideration.

Fortunately, the woman’s silver eyes settled upon the distinct blue pigtails belonging to the little girl curled up at the far end of the room. Books were scattered all around the latter, a single, small travelling lamp directly in front of her, and she wore only her long-sleeved red top and a pair of charcoal jeans. Although the room felt cold, the eight year old didn’t shiver, mind utterly oblivious to the rest of the world.

Without causing a disturbance, the red-head headed back and towards her office at high speed. She spotted a pair of blankets hanging on the back of her desk chair, so quickly collected them and hastily returned to the playroom. Ensuring her footsteps were audible (although the child didn’t react), she approached, pausing only at the edge of the circle of tomes. From that angle, she could read the title of the book currently being read by the orphan –  _The Flora And Fauna Of Haven City And The Wasteland_. A frown crossed the woman’s features at how said novel had managed to travel from her desk to here, but she felt it wasn’t the right time for berating.

“Taryn?” she called, loudly enough to not be ignored. The little girl immediately peered up, frozen to the spot, obvious trepidation and fatigue painted on her countenance.

 _Likely a nightmare,_  Toya surmised, wrapping a blanket around herself and settling onto the floor, cross-legged and spine resting against the bookshelf. “What are you doing here, at this time of night?”

Taryn flinched ever so slightly, placed on edge and subsequently irritated by the question. Yet she understood from her custodian’s stare that they were here to stay, either until the truth was admitted or the child returned to bed – ideally both. It was time to drop the attitude. “I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that,” the red-head replied, smiling a little and offering the other blanket. The eight year old pushed herself up into a kneeling position and curled up in it, before her brow furrowed, unsure if Toya’s words were sarcastic or sincere.

“I had a nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

“Two boys were telling me stories.”

“About-?”

Awkward, Taryn averted her gaze. “Metal Heads.”

Toya huffed, able to guess those responsible. She would have a  _talk_  with them the following morning. With a gentler disposition, she returned her attention to the little one at her side, who observed with large, green optics so full of fear.

“Are they real?” came the naïve enquiry.

“Metal Heads?” the red-head asked to clarify, and was given a nod in response, so spent a moment deciding whether to lie or tell the truth. It was understandably difficult to make; finally, she chose the honest path. There were ways to ease worries of being attacked by monsters in the darkness. “Yes, they’re real.”

The blue-haired orphan shuddered, more tightly clutching her blanket to her skinny frame for comfort. Still, the woman had no regrets, and further elaborated. “They can’t get into the city. There’s a powerful shield that protects us all. It’s made of Eco – that energy I told you about.”

“That makes up the world?” Recalling that piece of information cheered the girl up and offered her a sense of pride that was currently sorely lacking.

“Exactly.” Toya sounded approving. Years spent studying Eco theory as a teenager taught her a great many things about how that curious energy worked – something she thought wise to share. It had been long before becoming chief administrator and working directly under Count Veger. Then, more recently, she retired from that well-paid occupation, spending her life’s savings on purchasing the orphanage to protect the lost children of soldiers who died during the war. Some considered it an odd move, but the suspicions thankfully ended there.

On one occasion, the Krimzon Guard had entered the building for a routine inspection, and began asking pointed questions about Taryn. The red-head conjured a phony file to accompany her story, stating that the little girl was the daughter of some deceased army bigwig. The Baron and his forces had little interest in those already dead and buried, who could no longer pose a threat.

“The nightmares won’t stop,” the eight year old whispered, breaking through that nostalgic reverie. Her custodian understood it was a plea to stay up longer, so complied.

“What are you reading about?”

“Crocadogs.”

“Ah. Good animals. Strong and loyal. Did you know they were originally from the Wasteland? Wild and dangerous creatures, but the descendants of Mar managed to tame them and transformed them into protectors.”

“Whoa…”

“Yep. They symbolise not only strength and protection, but incredible loyalty. It was said that you couldn’t find a closer bond between man and animal. And every heir of Mar was given a crocadog pup. They’d grow up together and form this bond. Crocadogs were also said to keep the darkness away and ensure their handler’s heart was never corrupted.”

“Wait…the book doesn’t say anything about that!” Taryn challenged.

Toya simply chortled. “No, I don’t suppose it does. That book is more scientific…but what I’m talking about is the spiritual side.”

The blue-haired individual somewhat comprehended such meaning. Perhaps the science was a tad more trustworthy than a fable, but it was nice to believe that those large, green canine-reptilian beasts would shield her from the terrors of the night.  _Want my own ‘Dog,_  she thought. “Would they get rid of my dreams?”

“Should do. A big crocadog spirit sitting at the foot of your bed and keeping anything nasty away. It gobbles up all those nightmares.  _Gobble, gobble, gobble_!” The red-head leant forward and made such noises, tickling the child’s neck and causing squeals of laughter.

When the pair eventually settled down, the eight year old chose to own up to her crime. “I…I took your book.” She stared down at her lap and twiddled her thumbs.

Toya felt no anger at that confession. “Don’t worry about it. You’re obviously putting it to good use. Keep it with you until you’ve finished. Then just put it back on my desk.”

“Thanks,” the child sheepishly muttered, clutching the literature to her chest. Then, with a bite of her bottom lip, she realised it was time to sleep. With more confidence than felt, she said, “I’m ready to go back.”

“Alright.” The woman rose to her feet, knees cracking as she straightened up and legs aching from cramp. The girl did the same, holding both book and blanket, unsteadily moving away from the shelves and refusing any adult assistance. She paused for a second, craning her neck to peer at novels scattered across the floor.

“Don’t worry about them. I’ll tidy them up.”

“Oh…okay.”

Together, they moved from the playroom and into the corridor, back to Taryn’s sleeping quarters. She shared the room with three other girls, of five, nine and eleven – at least she wasn’t alone in the darkness. Inside, there was a pair of bunk beds. Toya paused in the doorway, taking back the blanket, whilst the child trundled over and climbed the wooden ladder to the top bunk, slipping the novel under her pillow for safekeeping, then snuggling into a foetal ball within the duvet.

The woman watched, then whispered, “Good night…and sweet dreams.”

Taryn repeated the phrase and lowered her eyelids, determined to sleep at last. All too soon, gentle snores drifted from her lips. Satisfied, Toya sauntered away, closing the door behind her.

Once in her office, the red-head slung the blankets over a chair at her large, oak desk, then stood before the window again. The next few days would be long, in multiple ways, but there was hope that even a sliver of what she had said would ease the little girl’s fear.

And those two boys wouldn’t tell any spooky stories again.

* * *

An entire week passed, before the woman spotted the blue-haired orphan in the same spot as before – this time during the day, which was a relief. It appeared the latter constantly felt the desire for knowledge, be it wildlife, electronics or mechanics.

However, Taryn appeared less absorbed by a book this time, immediately noticing her carer’s approach…and that the latter had one arm behind their back, which seemed suspicious. She pointed a slender finger. “What’s that there?”

“It’s a gift for you,” Toya grinned, holding up a stuffed crocadog. The girl’s face lit up. As much as anyone, she enjoyed receiving presents. So far, a few origami animals created during an arts and craft session were all she had, but they were treasured; size of expense did not alter their worth.

Without hesitation, Taryn accepted it and gave the plush toy an experimental squeeze. It was firm, obviously stuffed to the brim, before being stitched. The alternating beige and green fabric felt soft, almost downy, but thick – perhaps something that would weather well over the years. She thumbed its fringe, the texture almost that of real hair. There were big, black pieces of plastic for eyes and a piece of dark brown leather for its nose. “Thank you. I love it.”

“You’re welcome. Now you have your very own guardian.”

“Yeah…I do…”

It became clear that the eight year old had become absorbed in her gift and what it represented, so Toya offered a final glance and smile, before heading off and outside for some much-needed fresh air.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been too long since I updated. Fortunately, my inspiration returned. I have changed quite a bit since beginning this story, but methinks for the better.

Larger than usual within the small space of the hut (the variety of elaborate and bizarre trinkets did not help this matter), the Baron somehow managed to pace back and forth. Many a tale had been fed into his ear of the soothsayer’s visions, yet nothing came to pass. Trumped up legends called fact were hardly a necessity. The endless war cost him money, men and Eco, bribed Metal Heads attacking the city just enough to be a pitiful consolation prize.

“You are _sure_ about this vision?” he ground out the words, barely hanging onto the vestige of self-control. Perhaps a weakness, impatience also enabled the man to act, how he succeeded where others could not, rising to the rank of Supreme Commander of Haven’s army and standing as the King’s right-hand man. Without a monarch to stand in the way, Praxis now held ultimate power and the Grand Council in the palm of his hand.

Usually more talkative, the vibrant moncaw understood one did not display arrogance in the presence of such a leader. “With respect, Onin has never been wrong, my liege.”

“When?” The brunette was direct.

The cross-legged woman slapped her palms together, manifesting pale blue energy that she proceeded to twist around her slender fingers. Pecker translated. “She says the timeline is a misleading web. There is no predicting when this moment will arrive. Just that it will.”

Displeased yet knowing nothing could be done, Praxis gave a “hmph”, then left the pair to their mysterious machinations. He exited into the Bazaar sector and observed his guards, awaiting orders and stood to attention at his personal vehicle – a bulbous cruiser with a bonnet longer than its boot and completely enclosed, painted in crimson, black and white, otherwise unmarked. Four HellCats hovered in a diamond formation around it; in each sat two soldiers.

The door to the Baron’s cruiser slid upwards to allow access. He clambered through the entrance and settled onto a leather seat inside, before it sealed him within.

“To the palace,” he commanded. The pilot silently followed the command, activating the craft’s vertical take-off-and-landing mechanism. Free of the other traffic, the engines settled into a horizontal position, and it smoothly sailed through the air to said destination.

* * *

Whilst traversing the Slums at any time of day was disheartening and hazardous, the deluge made the trip positively dour. Clutching a waterproof, full-length hooded coat closer to her body, Toya wondered if the weather represented the city’s current health. She wouldn’t have attempted such a thing, but her mission demanded a trip to Old Town – an ancient sector connected to the Slums’ Northernmost tip, originally known as Sandover and existing prior to Mar founding Haven.

The sprawling alleys made the trail a nightmare to navigate in the twilight, odd lamps dangling from almost-derelict houses left and right. The red-head focused her mind on a well-worn path.

She detested leaving the children behind at the orphanage, with only the eldest in charge, but intended to meet with a long-time friend, Samos the Green Sage. People perceived him as an eccentric figure versed in the ways of channelling Eco, an ability thought impossible for the general public, yet he also at the core of a movement opposing Praxis – the Underground. The faction’s main goal was restoring the heir to the throne.

Many proclaimed locating King Damas a futile effort, banishment to the Wasteland a death sentence. Samos remained convinced that the man lived. Unfortunately, there were no means to contact the exiled monarch.

Toya paused at the official barrier between the two sectors. Luckily, the area’s dilapidation meant it hadn’t been updated with the latest system and didn’t require a security pass. Credits flowed through NYFE racing and Praxis’ various funds, but not here. A loophole she needed to slip through the net.

As one could have expected, Old Town was in far worse disrepair than the poorest parts of the city, suffering numerous attacks from Metal Heads. The surroundings remained still rather green and abundant with life, considering. It claimed elements of the Water Slums – not surprising, considering the two places joined at the North-West, and scraps of the Gardens’ flora.

A majority of buildings were supported on stone pillars set into the surrounding bog. The small market trailed all the way from the first group of huts close to the entrance of the sector, then encircled the Sage’s hut at the centre. Small gardens existed at its base – presumably where said male drew his power. He spoke often of plants providing insight into the world and channelling their energy into Eco, if done correctly. Various stairs and walkways dotted the space, designed to fork off from the shack and lead back into the main concrete bridge that knifed its way along the entire length of the district.

Few people passed the red-head on her journey, growing fewer once she reached her destination. At the wooden door of her friend’s home, she gave a specific series of knocks. The entrance immediately became accessible to her, and she glanced around only once, before swiftly entering.

Inside, the circular room glowed emerald from what appeared to be a boiler, with a collection of tubes from it bolted to the ceiling and passing down into an enormous plant pot opposite. A wonky and haphazardly-filled bookshelf sat near an inactive warp gate, whilst blades of grass grew through the wooden floorboards.

Studying the assortment of tomes was the blue, yellow and red moncaw, flapping his great wings to remain aloft. At her side, the elderly, the moss-haired male stood on sandals with wooden platforms fixed to their soles, giving him a little extra height.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he spoke, in barely a whisper.

_Could almost reach my elbow,_ she thought, suppressing an inappropriate chuckle, but the humour rapidly faded at his expression. She lowered the hood of her coat and strolled forwards, then accepted a stool. With her arrival, the two males joined and perched themselves on the other two seats.

“This will be our last meeting here,” Samos announced quite abruptly, causing the woman to frown. Before she could comment, he continued. “The Baron is becoming restless about Onin’s visions.”

“Another one?” Toya guessed.

Pecker nodded. “Not just ‘another one’. The _fabled_ vision. She says it is only a matter of time for the Precursors’ ‘chosen one’ to arrive.”

The red-head couldn’t resist beaming. “That…that’s incredible! Does she know when?”

“Yes,” the Sage said, much to the moncaw’s annoyance. They often verbally jostled, as if in a battle to show off their knowledge to the uninitiated. “It seems the Baron only knows what Onin has seen. He has no idea of the exact date. It’ll keep him distracted. For now.”

“And this is why it’ll be our last meeting?”

“Precisely. We have to prepare accordingly. Be extra careful where you’re seen and who you talk to.”

“Okay. The usual.” Obviously concerned, Toya bit her lip. He neglected to mention a few important details. “I have a few questions about our ‘chosen one’. Name? Age? Looks? When does he even get here?”

Samos fell silent and turned his head. The moncaw suddenly felt a tad reserved. Not even he knew all the soothsayer saw, but she distinctly told him to be mindful and careful about revealing too much information on the future. “She saw that a light will fall from the sky in ten years.”

Silver eyes widened. “ _Ten_ -? What’s the _rush_?”

“In all my years-” the elderly male began, raising a finger to emphasise his point, yet she had heard that speech far too many times.

“‘A decade isn’t a long time’. Yes, yes…you’ve told me.”

“Because _you_ seem to forget.”

“And how can Onin tell from a ‘light in the sky’ that it’s the hero?”

“She won’t steer us wrong.”

“…alright.” Generally more optimistic and trusting, Toya continued to feel unease. _Our ‘saviour’ is coming in ten years. No idea what he looks like, how old he is or where he’ll land. Huh. Maybe Taryn can help him out. Get someone to greet the hero when he_ does _land._ A thought entered her mind, one to be shared. “We could do with someone on the inside. Any progress on that?”

“We have Vin,” Pecker responded.

“No, no, I’m talking about KG.” The pair stared as if she lost her mind. “Hear me out. If we find someone so disgruntled with Praxis that they would defect, offer us information in exchange for freedom…”

“Who?” Samos enquired.

“There _has_ to be someone.”

“Hmm…an interesting idea. We’ll have to keep an eye out.” The Sage crossed both arms across his chest. “That will need to be for next time we make contact. We’ve been gathered together too long already.”

All agreed with that decision and a new method of communication – coded messages. Already in use, they would now solely rely on them.

_“We’ll be in touch.”_

Those words and the promises it brought lifted some of the growing weight pressing on Toya’s heart. With a quick check of her wristwatch, she lifted her hood and stepped back into the approaching darkness.

* * *

A tug of the sleeve woke the red-head, dragging her psyche from the world of reveries. With several blinks, she glanced downwards – unable to recall changing from her sodden coat and hiking boots into a fluffy jumper, long skirt and slip-on shoes – and realised the culprit was none other than Taryn.

“Look. On your desk.” The eight year old stabbed a forefinger in said direction. There, a white mug sat, quite innocently.

“What’s in it?” The woman remained a little unconvinced, leaning forward and peering. It looked hot, brown and smelt earthy. For a moment, she pondered the contents. The girl couldn’t make drinks or food to save her life. In order to not offend, her expression remained neutral. A large amount of effort was invested in its creation, as well as being a gift.

“Hot chocolate!” Taryn overflowed with pride, if a beaming grin and sparkling optics were anything to go by.

“Oh! Well, thank you! That’s very kind.” Toya offered a gentle smile, then, without hesitation, sipped at the beverage. The child’s gaze remained fixed until finished, then accepted the empty mug and darted out of the room at high speed – somehow managing to not trip on the journey.

The red-head chuckled. _As eccentric as her parents._ Regardless of being unable to witness it first-hand, Vin and Len would be proud of their blossoming daughter. Soon after handing the baby over to the orphanage, letters were sent regarding her progress, but the goggled foreman considered it too risky.

_Was it so long ago that we worked together?_ It seemed a lifetime ago. Toya often reminded herself that the passing of her best friend wasn’t merely a dream. The two were as close as sisters. When Len learnt of her sickness and the little time she had left, they arranged the recording of a holovid for the girl. The grey-eyed woman hoped it could one day be recovered.

_Oh, Taryn. If only I could tell you._ Although that would put Taryn in danger. Yet something powerful existed within her, burning bright even at a young age. _Please never lose your light. One day, you_ will _discover the truth. I just hope I’m there to see it with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Baron’s personal cruiser, I have an image in my head of a much smaller, red version of the _Serenity_ ship from _Firefly_.
> 
> That bit about Toya helping Len record a holovid for Taryn is very soon to be in a chapter of _Catalyst_ , where she goes through the family home. I’m really looking forward to writing it.


End file.
